Page 95 of At the Mercy of Midnight
They stepped out into the dark, evening air, Silas’ chest expanding with a lightness he had not felt for a long while.
TWENTY-TWO
They wandered the quiet city for nearly an hour, walking without purpose and chatting easily until the chill had crept into their bones and, each shivering, decided they should head back to the Octagon.
They were walking up a dark street, void of people, when the subject finally came back up again.
“So…you truly think the magical bond,” Amelia started slowly, “holds no emotional manipulation at all?”
Silas glanced sidelong at her. He considered his response carefully. “Obviously we can’t be certain at this point, but no…I don’t think it does.”
A beat of silence.
“I’ll admit I wanted an easy explanation, something I could dismiss. Because if this is real…” She swallowed, shaking her head. “Then it complicates everything. And I already have enough impossible things in my life without adding you to the list.”
Silas let out a wry breath. “Glad I made the list.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Amelia said with a quiet sigh. Then she muttered, almost too quietly to hear, “you scare me, Finley.”
He blinked, thrown. “I scare you?”
She nodded. “Because I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let myself…” She cut herself off with an exasperated exhale. “I don’t want to lose myself in this whole thing. In you.”
Silas’ chest ached with the weight of her honesty.
Slowly, he reached for her hand, curling his fingers around hers.
She didn’t pull away, but she did pull him to a stop so they could face each other in the middle of the street.
“If you want me to give you space, I will,” he said gently. “If you want to pretend tonight never happened, I will…but if you don’t—” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand. “Then you can stop hiding yourself from me. Stop running.”
Amelia stared at him.
Then, just as he was about to speak, she surged forwards and kissed him.
It caught him by surprise. It wasn’t careful or hesitant, but unguarded. A kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once.
Silas exhaled against her lips, his hands rising to cradle her face as he kissed her back.
The city was silent around them, the only sound their uneven breaths and the distant hum of arcane lamps. When theyfinally parted, Amelia stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against his.
“I’m done hiding,” she whispered.
Silas let out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good,” he murmured, “because I want to see everything, Winslow. I want to know every piece of you.”
The night air hung thick with the weight of their confessions, the heat of Amelia’s mouth still lingering against his.
They walked in an easy silence, exchanging occasional glances, when that silence was disrupted.
The subtle scuffing of boots on cobblestone reached his ears first, an unsettling sound that might have otherwise gone unnoticed, except for the distinct, metallic scrape that followed. The distinctive sound of a blade leaving its sheath.
Silas’s head snapped up, body responding before his mind caught up, a hand tightening around Amelia’s waist. His gaze swept the alley, searching, but all he could see were shadows, dark and formless, clinging to the edges of the cobbled street. The only light came from a single arcane lamp hanging at the alley's mouth, casting an eerie glow over the wooden crates and scattered debris.
A chill ran down his spine, a gnawing sensation that something was wrong, creeping into his bones. His heart hammered, and before he could form the thought to move, the first figure emerged from the darkness.
Figures in dark robes, faces masked and hoods low, materialised like phantoms. The gleam of cold steel caught the dim light, swords and knives, glinting in the shadows.
Before they could react, the first attacker lunged.
